Love and other drabbles
by Mu-Nition
Summary: A collection of scenes in relationships between characters, from subtle tenderness to dark desires. Angst, fluff, humor, horror, and different takes on romance, love, and lust. A chain of stories of relationships past and present. Entries for various HPFC challenges. Warnings in M rated chapters. Latest chapter: Gregory Goyle / Hestia Carrow in Bargain.
1. Liar

"You were great Ron. Really." Hermione said evenly.

Ron had returned just a few days ago, after leaving them alone for a while. His crush on Hermione was obvious now. She wanted to grit her teeth at his abandonment, but they needed him. Harry needed him. So she would be gentle and accepting, as always.

"What I saw there, when destroying it, you and Harry... it knew exactly how to hurt me the most." Ron all but whispered.

"You were incredibly brave. Remember? That was a nasty piece of magic." Hermione replied, trying to soothe him.

She could see Harry behind Ron, listening in. His green eyes meeting hers for just a second. She was reminded of those moments of loneliness, when it was just the two of them and that thrice damned locket. When they sought comfort in each others arms. She couldn't help the grim expression on her features. Despite what many thought, Ron was rather clever in his own way, and Hermione knew it. She quickly relaxed her features, but Ron already had an inquiring look aimed at her.

"What I saw there, did something actually happen?" Ron asked bluntly.

Hermione stole a glance at Harry. Harry shook his head slowly, his face apologetic, and then lowered his eyes to the ground. Ron didn't catch that short look. Clever, but not particularly observant.

"No Ron, Harry is like a brother. It would never have happened." Hermione said the well rehearsed line.

_Liar_, she thought to herself. The time for self-loathing would come later.

_Liar, liar, liar.  
_

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 1. Liar

Character: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter / Hermione Granger


	2. Maid

"Ronald Bilius Weasley, I am not your maid!" Hermione shrieked, face flushed with anger.

"Come on, you know doing the dishes isn't my thing." Ron asserted, with his usual aloofness.

Her hands were balled up into fists, white at the knuckles. Gulping was his (very natural) reaction. It was very hard to anger Hermione, but once you did that, then only divine intervention can save you. Ron started praying silently to whatever deities he could remember. This will not end well, his mind was screeching at him (it did learn from experience that Hermione Granger was _not_ a witch to be crossed, _ever_).

"We'd not have a problem if it was just the dishes. What about the laundry, cleaning the house, doing the shopping, cooking, and even taking out the trash?" Hermione asked, now seething.

"Hermione, you never complained about any of this ever! What am I, psychic?" He inquired defensively.

"Do _not_ pretend you don't know what I am talking about." She glared at him while hissing the words.

Ron stopped to think about this. Everything had been going well between them. They even agreed to add some excitement to the relationship. Just yesterday he bought... The realization hit him like the Hogwarts Express.

"The outfit." Ron said, barely suppressing a smile.

"Yes Ronald, the outfit." Hermione replied, now just annoyed.

"I didn't get that for... cleaning." Ron said lasciviously.

Hermione looked puzzled. She scrunched up her face. Her eyes then widened.

"Oh. OH!" Hermione blushed.

She didn't have a problem being that kind of maid.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 2. Maid

Character: Hermione Granger

Pairing: Hermione Granger / Ron Weasley


	3. Love

"I love you." Lavender whispered to the sleeping form of Ron Weasley.

What a big word. Love. She knew he didn't love her. That he thought of another when they were in bed together. She wished that maybe, just maybe, he would try and learn to love her too. She could never bring it up. Just looking at his face, you could see that he wasn't thinking about her. Even when they were together, she was the only one there. Even now, both of them nude, post-coital warmth still warming her body, he wasn't with her. His back towards her, his face towards the wall.

"You could try, you know." She whispered, pressing her hands to his back, feeling the contours of his muscles.

She wished he would. He just needed to try to be happy with her. Making him happy would be something she could excel at. If only he would give that chance. If only he would try. He didn't. But leaving was not an option, no matter how she wished it. Love. Why does it hurt so much? No one thought he was any bit special. He was that good bloke that was friendly with everyone, didn't use big words, loyal to his friends, family and house to a fault.

"Everyone else doesn't really understand you, but I do, my love." She said gently, wrapping one arm around him, pressing her breasts into his back.

Nobody really bothered to know him. That under all that, he was just trying to measure up to impossible standards, and he was hurting so much because he failed. He wanted to be more talented than Bill, braver than Charlie, smarter than Percy, and funnier than Fred and George. He wanted so much to be better than his older brothers in some way. All these impossible goals. Trying so hard to be someone else. He was in pain and didn't know it. It was the reason he wouldn't try getting with Hermione. Lavender knew that. She wasn't stupid, despite what some people think.

She wanted to take the pain away. If only he would allow it. If only he would try. Ron mumbled something in his sleep.

Love.

She wished she could hate it.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 3. Smile

Character: Ron Weasley

Pairing: Ron Weasley / Lavender Brown


	4. Angel

Remus Lupin knew he shouldn't be thinking about her this way. It was just wrong, on so many levels. He needed help. If he hadn't needed this job so much, he would have quit just to stay away. A werewolf in his thirties, the sad truth, he had nowhere to go to. No one to turn to. He blamed his desperation and loneliness, but those didn't change a thing. It was so wrong.

This slip of a girl, only a third year. Fourteen years old, dirty blonde hair, rich brown eyes... just starting to blossom, not yet a woman, not quite a girl. Terrified of snakes. Likes fixing her makeup, charming everyone around her to ease. Not a real problem in her life. So different than anyone else. She was, to put it mildly, the only person he knew who was untroubled. It radiated out of her, giving her an aura of warmth and caring.

A pure, happy, virginal beauty.

His little angel.

He started thinking of her like that. There she was, in his classroom, chatting away with her roommate. Four minutes to the beginning of class. He was sitting behind his desk, trying to look at anyone, anything else. He took some papers from the Seventh years, and started to grade them. Only a few more minutes, and he could go into his routine and not think of her until the end of class.

"Professor Lupin, what are we going to study today?" Lavender Brown asked.

His palms started sweating. Pupils dilating. The raging wolf in his blood screamed at him to claim her. Alone for so long, he just wanted to take his hand and caress her cheek. His angel. He steadied his breath, swallowed his saliva, forced himself to stop thinking those thoughts. He would not be the one to desecrate her. To defile her with his filthy hands.

"Professor? Are you all right?" She inquired, innocent worry on her beautiful face.

"Yes, fine. We will study Acromantulas today. Go back to your seat, Miss Brown, class is about to begin." He said, nearly choking on his words.

He didn't know how he had managed it. Two months to the end of the year. Two months, he kept repeating to himself as a mantra. He would go away. The money doesn't matter. He couldn't do this. Not to her.

Not to his angel.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 4. Angel

Character: Lavender Brown

Pairing: Lavender Brown / Remus Lupin


	5. Shadow

There was a shadow around him. But under it, there was a calm and gentle man. Another layer deeper, a raging beast. Beyond that, she could sense something special. Wondering how she could get to it, she went with a tried and true method. Tonks pretended to stumble into his lap, and gave him a repentant shadow of a smile. Everyone believes a Hufflepuff will be silly, right?

"Sorry about that, Remus, I'm so clumsy sometimes." Tonks said, 'accidentally' brushing her arm against his crotch getting up.

He got the most adorable blush. She wanted to kiss him there and then, but that shadow around him told her that patience would be better. He was terrified of how he reacted to the young woman. She had to be over a decade younger than him. His face turned cold at the thought, and then back to that congenial mask he put on for casual observers.

"Tonks, right? I was just leaving on errand. I apologize that I couldn't stay and chat." He spoke politely, and turned away.

That she was attracted to him was obvious, so he could never allow it to go any further. He was a beast. A monster. A shadow of a man. She deserves so much more, he thought to himself as he left.

He left. Leaving her behind. Trying to hide. Oh, like any man, he fancied himself trying to protect her. How unsurprisingly male of him. He needs to understand that there can exist no shadow if there isn't a light.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 5. Shadow

Character: Remus Lupin

Pairing: Remus Lupin / Nymphadora Tonks


	6. Night

Just one last night, and it would soon be over.

Nymphadora Tonks had a thing for bad boys, and Charlie was no different. The tough dragon handler was another in a list of men which her parents would disapprove of. Of course, she was tough as nails herself, not some fairy princess type. Both of them were beat, the bed soaked in sweat and a little bit of blood. It was remnant of a particularly wild exercise.

She reached to the floor to pick up her pants, and removed her cigarettes from the pocket. She lit one with an inappropriately large flame, and inhaled deeply. Reveling in the crackling fire being the only sound to break the silence of the winter night, she relaxed. It was so rare, to be totally trouble free, even if it was just momentary and fake.

"Listen Tonks, come with me." Charlie spoke, breaking the charm.

"Not going to happen. You know it won't." Tonks spat out, wishing he would just shut up and look good.

"I'm serious. I..." He replied.

"Don't complete that sentence. We both knew how this would end. It was supposed to be one night, then it became every night for a month. The month is over. End of story." She cut him off, with just a hint of anger.

She wished she didn't need to be so harsh with him. It was not that she didn't care, or didn't have a part that wanted to go with him. But it was his last night. One night and then he goes to Romania.

He shouldn't dare make it any harder than it already is, she thought while putting on her clothing, cigarette still in hand. The night will soon be over. And then so will they.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 6. Night

Character: Nymphadora Tonks

Pairing: Nymphadora Tonks / Charlie Weasley


	7. Moon

Sitting outside Charlie decided he hated his family sometimes. Ginny was married to Harry, Ron to Hermione, Percy to Audrey, George to Angelina, and Bill to Fleur. Everyone was so happy. And then they thought he was odd for staying in Romania whenever he could. Being surrounded by family was no longer what it was when he was younger. It was now a grouping of families, children of his brothers and sister more important than him, and he was so painfully single.

His family was the night sky, and he was the moon. He shone brightly, but was a part of no constellation. The jovial laughter and chatter from the house grated on his nerves. Christmas, a time for family, and he wasn't one of them. Not anymore. The morose musings he was indulging in were cut off by a somewhat familiar silver-haired girl. Placing their meeting eluded him.

"Hello, you must be Charlie. My name is Gabrielle." She spoke with a faint French accent.

"Charmed. You are indeed correct. You must be Fleur's sister. I haven't met you since the wedding." He replied, his voice relaxed now that he had been removed from his reverie.

She smiled at him, unabashed by the memory of her eleven year old self. Betting that it was more an educated guess than an actual memory would be an easy one to take. No, he wouldn't see her as a schoolgirl. He wasn't the only one that felt alone when surrounded by loved ones. And she was far more graceful and seductive than her older sister.

_He doesn't stand a chance_, she thought to herself.

"That was a while ago, and unfortunately, I do not think we danced back then. You cannot get to know someone before you dance with them. So, will we do a proper introduction?" She said with just a bit of humor, a touch of warmth, and mild suggestiveness.

He looked at her again, this time taking his time in observation. Slender features and pale skin accented by the moonlight, silver hair glistening, and eyes so dark you could barely see that they were blue and not brown. And her body... the casual sensuality of it made his blood boil. She was amused by his rather predictable response by the time his eyes reached her mostly bare legs. With a wave of her wand, a waltz began to play, emanating from all around them.

Finally, he bowed down and put his hand towards her. She took it. They danced for hours under the light of the moon.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 7. Moon

Character: Charlie Weasley

Pairing: Charlie Weasley / Gabrielle Delacour


	8. Chocolate

Astoria and Scorpius left to return home, leaving him alone at a party. Not that he particularly liked these formal gatherings, a bunch of stuck up rich dullards like his father. Not one exciting person there. He would rather be home with his family. Draco felt old before his time. He wasn't ready for this. He wished a return to days when his life was a series of erotic romances, starring beautiful women of all shapes and sizes. Astoria was a partner with which one woman could replace the many average ones needed to satiate his libido. That is, before Scorpius. Astoria couldn't even think in lustful lines at the moment.

He danced with many partners, going from one middle-aged toady to the next. He caught a wiff of a delicious scent, and his head immediately whipped around to the origin. He spied her in the corner and missed a step. She was gorgeous.

Apologized politely to his dance partner, and went to grab a drink. He was a married man, but he knew that powerful attraction when it hit him. Just a touch of her scent and one glance, and he was drinking to think about something else. God, her elegant beauty stood out like a flower in a pot of dirt.

"Gabrielle Delacour." A sing-song voice with a mild French accent seemed to materialize behind him.

Turning around, he saw her. He wanted to run, kiss her, return home, and ravage her there and then. Falling back on his instincts, he changed his pose to the most aristocratic manageable.

"Draco Malfoy. Apologies for not introducing myself." He said, barely stopping himself from offering her a drink.

"A hotel room and chocolate sauce. Now." She noted with sensuality dripping from every vowel, as she dipped her finger in the chocolate fountain.

Licking it slowly, eyes locked with his, she inserted the finger into her mouth, and closed her lips around it. She removed it slowly, without a trace of chocolate left. Draco quivered, knees weak. Home, he needed to go home. Back to his wife. Away from this temptress. He didn't know how much longer he could resist. Alcohol and testosterone in his blood, their influence a siren's song, making him forget everything but this very moment.

Moving towards the exit, back towards him, she sashayed slowly, her delicious hips swaying side to side, impossible to ignore. His eyes were transfixed on this seductive being, imagining the chocolate running down her body, him licking it clean. She turned to face him, and waved him on.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 8. Chocolate

Character: Gabrielle Delacour

Pairing: Gabrielle Delacour / Draco Malfoy


	9. Rose

A single rose. They were meant to be married since they were four years old, lovers since they were fourteen, and on her eighteenth birthday, all he got her was a rose. He didn't even meet her in person. Just casually going about his business, protecting the family name. And that is all she was, a name. And all the effort she deserved was a single rose, without a personal appearance.

Pansy Parkinson hated roses. Crying was a habit she tried to quit, but she just couldn't help herself. Fourteen years, and he didn't know that she hated roses. It was over, and she knew it. He didn't love her, and never would. She started to write a note, and it started out trying to reconcile with Draco, but slowly morphed into a diatribe, a litany of anger. She wrote more and more, pouring her hate and pain into every word.

Her tears grew worse, blotching the ink. Writing word after word, for the first time in her life letting go of her restraint, she poured her heart out. By the time she was over, she felt empty, and the tears had dried. It was not the first time she thought such terrible things of Draco. She forgave him for everything before. She took the letter, crumpled it into a ball, and then threw it into the fireplace.

Watching the parchment burn, she picked up the rose and inhaled the smell. The thorns pricked her hand, and a drop of blood fell to the ground.

It wasn't so bad.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 9. Rose

Character: Draco Malfoy

Pairing: Draco Malfoy / Pansy Parkinson


	10. Fade

He could fade into the trees once more. Sneaking in to visit Harry at school once again, Sirius Black was definitely taking unnecessary risks. But that was him all over. Being stuck alone, with nothing to do, it was too much for him. Sneaking around, the danger of being caught and executed, that was a risk he loved taking. That was what made life worth living.

Walking around hidden, all but invisible, around the edges of the forest, he saw a girl sitting, slumped next to a tree, crying. The spot was secluded enough that the chances of anyone interrupting her were slim to none. Her face was unusual, somewhat hard, at worst, people could call her ugly, at best, her beauty was unique. Sirius lent towards the latter. No casual observer could pick up all the details, but this hadn't been the first time in the past two and a half years he'd seen her at this spot.

He remembered his time as a student there, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt, at all the girls he left just like that. Young, he wanted to use girls as toys. After twelve years in prison, he could finally understand those tears. All she wanted was someone to hold her, someone to care. No spectacular sexual act, no theatricality, no play for power. Not even love. Just intimacy. An understanding without words, where the look in the eyes, the touch of hands, a gentle kiss, would convey enough.

The girl stopped crying. She didn't stand up, but was shivering with the cold. He walked up to her, not quite silent enough to surprise her. He took off his overcoat, and put it in his arm.

"Hullo, my name is Sirius. You look like you could use a coat." He said, giving her a nervous smile.

_Gods, it has been so long since I talked to a woman like this_, he thought to himself. She wiped the last remnants of tears from her face on her sleeve, and then took the offered coat.

"Thanks. I'm Pansy. Pansy Parkinson." She replied, her smile not nervous, but shy.

Worries began to fade, as their hands brushed together.

It was a beautiful night.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 33. Fade (changed from #10)

Character: Pansy Parkinson

Pairing: Pansy Parkinson / Sirius Black


	11. Smile

**Warning: Nonconsensual sexual act in this chapter.**

Seriously, this chapter is not for the faint-hearted, and should be labeled between "dark" and "disgusting". Consider yourself warned.

* * *

She was sobbing, as her gag reflex hit again and again. His smile never left his face.

"You see Alecto, I can do whatever I want. The Black heir, soon to be one of the most powerful people in the world." Sirius cackled manically.

Thrusting into her mouth violently, again and again. Ignoring her choking sounds, difficulty breathing. Taking joy in her tears and mascara running. Alecto Carrow had a crush on him, and when he called her to meet alone in a long forgotten classroom she had been excited. Sirius Black, handsome, popular, rich, charming, with the most beautiful smile out of all the boys... was giving her attention.

"Dumbledore has basically given permission for this. Not in words, but in action. As long as the target is a Slytherin, the worst that will happen is a detention." Cruelty rolled off of his tongue, with practiced pureblood nonchalance taught to him since he was a baby.

His hands grabbed her hair roughly and pulled him forcefully into her mouth. Her knees were scraping against the floor, bleeding. The hexes that hit her, rendering her all but immobile, would leave scars that would last a lifetime. The pain was horrible. The humiliation was worse.

"You see, deep down you are evil. You deserve this. Dumbledore wants me on his side at any cost. That makes me the good guy. And you, are nothing more than Slytherin scum." He spoke with relish.

Sirius carried on, his words eliciting violent sobs that only aroused him further. Alecto stopped resisting. There was nothing she could do. He knew it, and so did she.

"Yeah! That's it. Take it, you whore. Take... it." He groaned out, close to his climax.

Pulling her harshly, forcing her mouth and nose to be buried in his pubic hair, he emptied himself. She was squirming, trying to gasp for air. It seemed like an eternity before he let go. He backhanded her face, dislocating her jaw, sending her crashing into the ground. He quickly fixed his pants and robes, walked up to the crumpled heap she was, and spat in her face. Then, as he was at the door while leaving the room, he paused, looking at her with utter contempt.

"Happy sweet sixteen, slut. We'll do this again sometime." He added, smirking.

He left her alone with her tears, and the memory of a smile.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 11. Smile

Character: Sirius Black

Pairing: Sirius Black / Alecto Carrow


	12. Baby

**Warning: Contains an explicit sexual act that can be interpreted as either BDSM or nonconsensual.**

I was not in a good mood when writing this. Consider yourself warned.

* * *

"_Imperio!_" She hissed at him.

Neville removed his clothes, attached the manacles to his legs, and one to his right wrist. She attached the fourth, and now he lay spread-eagle on the bed. The awkward trouble-maker, still going at it no matter how he was punished. She found his fighting spirit exciting.

"You haven't given up. Respectable. However misguided, you bring honor to your blood." Alecto said with menace in gleaming her eyes.

She took out a long knife with a jagged edge. She brandished her blade inches from his face, careful not to cut anything. The curse was still forcing him to act, though he was shrugging it off. A few minutes and he would be free. They became very aroused.

"You've been a bad boy. Bad boys must be punished. I shall discipline you." She voiced the words with aloofness.

Gripping the knife, she started cutting off button after button of her clothing. Realization was dawning on Neville Longbottom, immediately beginning to struggle against the thick metal chains. Alecto's lip twitched at that, as she started removing the many layers of her clothing, gradually revealing her scar littered skin. She then put on her open robe, draping it over her shoulders.

An involuntary moan escaped his lips as she straddled him. She brought the knife against his cheek as she topped him. She released her hair from the tightly held back position, and it cascaded down until it touched his chest, her eyes piercing the shadow, boring into his face.

"Smart boy, not talking, not complaining. You understand that you will give me a child. A baby. Once this war ends, you will be given to me, and help raise it." She whispered to him, voice occasionally quivering.

He closed his eyes and turned his head aside. Pain riddled the side of his face, causing his eyes to open with shock. A shrill laugh echoed in the room, and then the sound of metal clanging against the ground.

"_Crucio._" She intoned with practiced precision, and pain pervaded his every thought.

The pain receded, and pleasure began to register in his mind. There was sobbing, and it took a while for Neville to notice it was his. The steel manacles dug into his wrists and ankles, and her hair danced against his chest as she went up and down.

"Let go. Give in. That's it." She whispered in his ear.

Alecto continued moving methodically. His whimpers changed into moans. She saw he was close, and lifted her wand until it was directly under his chin, and bit his nipple harshly. He gasped. She blew gently over the abused nipple, causing a sensation of extreme cold to radiate from there, mingling with the remnants of hurt. He grew rigid as an orgasm wracked his body.

"That's it baby. Good boy." She said, and stalked away.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 12. Baby

Character: Alecto Carrow

Pairing: Alecto Carrow / Neville Longbottom


	13. Easy

"Easy, be gentle! Ow! Nonononono! Too fast! Too hard!" Hannah shouted upwards, sprawled on her back.

"There is nothing easy about this! How am I supposed to be gentle with _it_?" Neville asked.

Hannah wanted to smile to herself, but couldn't help but wince with pain. He could be so clumsy sometimes. Green thumb or not, Neville was not great with most anything else. But she did love him.

"Listen dear, I know that you may be brandishing something excessively big, but when I say easy, I mean easy." She said, desperate that he understand that she is, after all, delicate.

"God, you say things like that and you expect me to be capable of any fine motor movement? Do you understand how _hard_ it is?" Neville replied, exasperated.

"Come on, we both want to do this, and it has to be this way. It is your responsibility to make sure that you don't damage me. My body can only take so much punishment. And this _thing_ is far bigger than what I am accustomed to. So be careful and just ease it in place." Hannah commanded, stating her desires clearly.

Neville grunted with exertion, barely managing not to move, as she resumed her careful ministrations. Her fingers danced deftly, gently tugging. He grunted, barely able to keep still, afraid to move and hurt her.

"There, nearly, move it a bit more inwards. Forward... ah, stop! Stop! Stay right there!" Hannah managed.

Neville finally managed to hold the oven in place without crushing her fingers as she attached it to the gas main. Moving into a new house was not easy.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 13. Easy

Character: Neville Longbottom

Pairing: Neville Longbottom / Hannah Abbot


	14. Light

Light shone through the bedroom window, finally hitting her face and waking her. Quickly rising, she ran to the shower, and prepared for the night. It was a good nap, and the sun, like clockwork, hit her bed at exactly half four. Shampoo, conditioner, soap for her face, soap for her hands, soap for her body, moisturizing cream, lipstick, mascara... the list went on. The Yule Ball was tonight, and she had a beautiful blue dress.

And no one she wanted to go with. Cedric. Handsome, brave, loyal, strong. And going with Cho. She didn't let that stop her. She would look beautiful for herself.

"It has nothing to do with him." She lied to her reflection in the mirror and grimaced.

The time flew, and she went to the ball. She danced with Neville, Harry, Ernie, and plenty of other boys. They all noticed her, asked her to dance, offered her drinks. All except Cedric. She nearly managed to forget that. She twirled around the dance-floor, high heels not impeding her in the least. It was fun, despite everything.

Sitting in the corner, she and Ernie started cracking jokes about all the foolish arguments people were having. Everyone took things so seriously, and for just one night, she decided not to think about problems and envy and school... and succeeded. Growing tired and about to retire, she saw Cedric standing alone, looking worried. She walked up to him.

"Cedric, would you care for a dance?" She asked.

He smiled a nervous half-smile, but just a little bit of tension left his face. He took her hand.

"I'd love to." He said.

They danced, perfectly formal, perfectly chaste, but fun all the same. He was beginning to relax. She grinned at him. He was so serious all the time. So was she, but she decided that tonight is different, and if anything, he should follow her lead.

"Life will continue tomorrow. Now stop being a prat and have some proper fun. Gods, you are stuffy sometimes." She lectured him with a warm tone and a mischievous smirk.

The dance ended, and she walked away. _He is just another bloke_, she thought to herself. His eyes followed her as she left.

It was a ray of light in a dark year.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 14. Light

Character: Hannah Abbot

Pairing: Hannah Abbot / Cedric Diggory


	15. Stone

Tears upon stone. That is what it always came down to.

He was so caring, warm and gentle. It was odd for Cho, thinking of this slab as containing him. How grossly inappropriate. They were at the start of something special. She had other boys interested in her before, but they weren't Cedric. They all saw her as an exotic asian beauty, or a talented Quidditch player slicing the wind with her broom, or as a studious student. He saw her as Cho.

It meant so much, for what precious little time they had. They fell in love, and for the first time, she understood how deep that could run. Every time he went on a dangerous task, her heart all but stopped. Terror gripped her. But deep down she knew he would be all right. He would always come back and take her into his arms as she complained about his death defying stunts making her feel bad. Nothing could happen to him. The world could not be that cruel.

A headstone. A name, dates, and a few words. The wrongness of it made her laugh with desperate sobs. One month, and it was becoming easier. She was letting go, and hated herself for it being so easy. Things don't deserve to be simple. The horrible unfairness of it, of grief becoming intermittent instead of a constant ache. She deserved worse, feeling disloyal for beginning to move on. If the world had to be cruel, then at least it should be consistent. Cedric deserved better.

More than just letters and numbers on stone.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 15. Stone

Character: Cedric Diggory

Pairing: Cedric Diggory / Cho Chang


	16. Forest

The smell of ash was overpowering. Three days after the final battle, the stench was still unbelievable there. This used to be a favorite spot of his, before it burned to the ground in a literal sense. It was now his favorite once more, because of the stench. It was so heavy the air felt thick, impregnated with the burnt remains of his favorite spot of the forest. The only place where something was stronger than the smell of burnt flesh.

Showers hadn't helped. He scrubbed himself raw every night and every morning since. It never left him. His body was tense, expecting an attack at every turn. A metallic taste filled his mouth, and then he noticed he had bit the inside of his cheek. Spitting blood, the red lost in the scorched black of the ground, he heard footsteps coming from behind him, and whirled around.

"Knew you'd be here." Cho said, a crooked smile on her face.

She was wearing long black robes to disguise her scarred arms, hair draped over her face, dark eyes lurking in the shadows. They needed someone, and they were available. Michael still wanted Ginny. Cho still wanted Harry. The battle for them wasn't as clean and bloodless as it was for most others. And theirs wasn't a happy end, being foot soldiers was never glorious, never celebrated. They were smart enough to know that no one would remember their roles.

They walked towards one another, embraced, and kissed desperately. It was not a loving kiss, nor a passionate one, but rather need incarnate. They shed no tears, not again, not anymore. They didn't think of the dead. They didn't remember they were now killers. They forgot their scars. They forgot those unavailable dreams.

And for a brief moment, it seemed like the forest was still there.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 16. Forest

Character: Cho Chang

Pairing: Cho Chang / Michael Corner


	17. Book

"Happy birthday Michael!" Ginny exclaimed, a huge smile on her face.

Wrapped in the very obvious red and gold cover was a present. A book. Of course as Ravenclaw, a book for a birthday present was expected. Smiling, he inwardly groaned, barely suppressing the urge to make it visible. Dating her for being obvious had never been on his mind. Michael adored her hotheaded tempers and passionate emotions.

"Thank you Gin. Do you want me to open it now?" He asked.

Ginny became flustered and quickly motioned him to silence, before she was dragged back to the Gryffindor table by her trio of older brothers, no doubt trying to _protect_ her virtue. Ridiculous. Michael was a perfect gentleman, and as such would in no way do something she didn't want. They hadn't even talked about... doing it. Of course he wanted to. Ginny was the most beautiful witch in the world as far as he was concerned.

Proceeding to unwrap the book, he looked at the cover. No author, just a title. Well, he would have time for that later. He put the book in his robes. It still nagged him that he couldn't understand the book's name. Ginny looked at him and was desperately trying to mouth something from across the room. It was too far away for him to understand. Her brother said something to her, and she looked at her food and prodded it with her fork.

That was odd. She usually ate with great gusto. That was a Weasley family trait and tradition. Still, he couldn't place the foreign words, despite a nagging feeling that those were familiar somehow. Frowning for a second and then shrugging it off, he finished his breakfast and walked towards his girlfriend, who was still looking at her food and poking it with cutlery.

"Gin, what does Kama Sutra actually mean?" He inquired.

She started blushing, and gave him her most adoring smile. Her brother turned red too, but was for some reason glaring at him and shaking in his seat. It seemed that they both knew what it meant.

_This book seems like trouble_, Michael thought to himself.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 17. Book

Character: Michael Corner

Pairing: Michael Corner / Ginny Weasley


	18. Note

"Meet me at the Astronomy Tower an hour before curfew, signed by some GW, XOXO" Cuthbert Binns droned on.

Dean didn't know where to bury himself. His roommate, and Ginny's older brother, hadn't known about the relationship... which they kept quiet because of his possible reaction. Which they predicted to be somewhere between outraged and violent. It was a blessing that it was a history lesson, as every other student was sound asleep. In fact, so was he, until the note started bumping him on the head.

That was just like her. Even her subtleties were endearingly (most would say obnoxiously, but most weren't dating her at the moment) unsubtle. Leave it to Ginny to send a discrete message that literally hit him over the head repeatedly. Dean wrote a note back, making sure it would be equally obvious and caught when it floated in on her.

Time passed slowly in the classroom. It always did with Binns. He was nodding off again when the class finally ended. Being the most alert was an advantage, and he quickly picked up his notes and ran out. Only to see an enraged Ginny Weasley, fists against her hips, waiting for him.

"_Meet you for the snogfest, DT XOXO_? Really? Snape caught the note and read it out loud in front of everyone! Do you even understand how incredibly stupid that was?" Ginny asked what she deemed a rhetorical question.

He raised an incredulous eyebrow, and his lips twitched as he tried holding back his smile. She blushed and started sputtering. Taking her into a hearty embrace, Dean kissed her deeply, and Ginny melted into his arms. The rest of the world seemed to evaporate.

"Oi! What are you doing with my sister?" Someone interrupted them.

They stopped snogging, looked at each other, smiled, and ran away as fast as they could. Ginny made a mental note to pick better locations for arguments.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 18. Note

Character: Ginny Weasley

Pairing: Ginny Weasley / Dean Thomas


	19. Hand

"Could you give me a hand with something?" Luna queried.

Dean cursed himself as he leapt up with surprise. Luna had an ability to sneak up on him, no matter that he had been stealing glances at her whenever possible. They had become good friends during their stay at Malfoy Manor, but... he wasn't satisfied with friendship. Not anymore. The wispy blonde with her bizarre sense of humor and ethereal voice just fascinated him, and he was drawn to her.

"What do you want me to do?" He asked.

"Give me a hand, of course." Luna stated, not batting an eyelid.

"Uhh, I guess." Dean finally conceded, unsure of himself.

"Follow me." She said, and quickly turned around and walked towards the forest.

Once again, she had bare feet, and walked over the grass, her bottle-top necklace rustling against her shirt. He followed her, the smell of a spring morning melding with the scent of her rosemary shampoo. He really wished he could find a way to converse with her in which he wasn't caught off guard. Though being off guard with her was half the fun.

"Could you tell me what this is about?" He shouted, as Luna broke up into a quick skip, the distance between them growing.

She turned to him, gave a puzzled look, and then vanished between the trees. He broke into a run, only to see her sitting down in a clearing, next to a stump with a picnic basket on it. Motioning him to sit next to her, she took his hand into both of hers, and looked at it. The only thought in his mind was that he wished she would see him as more than just a friend, but rather as a man. One who was interested in her.

Her blue eyes met his dark ones. For a moment, everything was silent. She ran a finger over his palm and gave him a mysterious smile. His heart skipped a beat.

"You're wrong, you know. I do notice." She said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

They proceeded to have a wonderful picnic, talk about creatures Dean wasn't sure existed mixed with incisive comments he was sure he needed to hear. In the end, Dean was more confused, still completely unsure of anything Luna, but was quite fine with that. When he got back, people noticed that he now had a mysterious smile. And now Luna was the one with the assured grin.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 19. Hand

Character: Dean Thomas

Pairing: Dean Thomas / Luna Lovegood


	20. Mine

"Leave her with me. The decision on her punishment is mine, and mine alone." Severus Snape commanded, his voice even, restrained, and cold.

The Carrows shrank away, snickering yet all but breaking into a run. Headmaster Snape was a dangerous man, and it did not look like he was in a pleasant mood. Luna Lovegood just looked at him and blinked, remaining seated on the cold floor of the corridor, brush in hand.

"Miss Lovegood, come with me." He said, and started walking off towards his office.

Standing up and smoothing her robes, she had to jog to keep up. Feet rapping against the stone of the hallways, they finally reached his office and entered. Snape sat at his desk, and motioned Luna to sit opposite of him. He gave her an appraising look.

"It may escape your notice, but your actions are counterproductive to your survival." Severus spoke softly, but with iron in his voice.

"I know. Wrackspurts are to blame, and something must be done." Luna said.

Snape started massaging his temples. She was being flippant and disguising it as eccentricity again, he thought darkly as migraines and sleep depravation were doing nothing for his mood. Protecting students doing their best to be tortured to death would be his prime accomplishment in a week or so, when the war was over.

"Punishment must be meted out for this. Do you enjoy being punished?" He asked.

"Not particularly. I'm sorry." She replied.

"Sorry? Instead of being sorry, avoid these situations." He hissed out, barely subdued wrath enwreathing every word.

"Not sorry for what I've done, it is very sad you are in this position." Luna spoke dreamily.

"There is no place for sadness in necessity." Severus said brusquely.

"You shouldn't do it alone. That is sad." She carried on, her voice floating around the room.

Black eyes shone with anger. Self-control was slipping, something Severus Snape was not accustomed to without a Potter around. He wasn't sure if he would cry or kill, should she stay.

"Get... out." Snape whispered in threatening tones, gripping his desk with white knuckles.

"You don't have to be alone, you know. I understand." Luna said while leaving, unconcerned, an ethereal expression plastered on her face.

Severus Snape suppressed a shudder. He stalked up to the door, leant back on it and slumped to the ground. He wished she could have been right. Steeling his thoughts, he knew it was a matter of days before the end. Otherwise that girl would be the end of him. One way or another, he had to be prepared to die alone, if only for just a short while longer.

"My loneliness is mine, and mine alone. Don't try take it, you silly girl." Severus Snape spoke to the empty room.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 20. Mine

Character: Luna Lovegood

Pairing: Luna Lovegood / Severus Snape


	21. Ministry

"What the hell are you doing here?" Lily asked, wand drawn.

"Albus allowed it." Severus said somberly.

Lily looked at her childhood friend, pondering that unreadable expression he always has. Even more sickly and pale, too thin, teeth worse than ever, and nails yellow with ingredient residue that no matter how careful cannot be cleaned... the years had not been kind to Severus Snape. They hadn't talked for years now... and he just seemed neutral. Too much so.

"You're one of them." She half-inquired, half-stated.

"Yes." He replied, black eyes blank, face devoid of emotion, that single syllable hollowed.

There was no apology, threat, anger, sadness, or anything at all conveyed other than that single answer. His black robes swallowed the light and meaning of his words. He looked far older just then. The ambitious boy, reaching for the stars and devouring knowledge, was as dead as his body language. She didn't know whether to be happy or sad about that.

"Turn yourself in to the ministry." Lily's voice was impregnated with betrayal.

Then something she never expected happened. Severus laughed. It was the first time she had heard it since they were ten. He couldn't stop himself as he sat down, tears streaming, hands clutching his aching sides. Injuries not completely healed were opening under his robes, blood starting to stream into the first of many layers. It was minutes before he could stop.

"Oh Lily. What would be the point of that? I'm a spy now. Hard doing that from a cell." He explained, features returning to their practiced indifference.

"Spy? Are you insane? Do you know what _he_ does to those that cross him? Why not run? Why not turn yourself in? Why?" She shouted, ranted, spat out the syllables. Memories of friendship and enmity elicited by Severus's presence insinuating themselves into the questions.

"To protect you. It doesn't matter that you don't like me. That you never listened to my apologies. Even that you married that idiot. Why do you think Dumbledore would bother protecting you like this? The goodness of his heart? He does nothing which does not further himself or his causes. I suspect that even when he dies, it will be to advance one of his insane schemes. So, as a part of the deal, I get to see the security here." The spy said bitterly.

She went silent. Dumbledore was a good man, wasn't he?

"So I'll die. Probably a horrible death, at the hands of my lord. Or locked up in a ministry cell, like your husband and your friends will doubtlessly say I deserve." The spy said.

"Sev... what am I supposed to say?" Lily whispered after a long pause.

"Nothing. _Obliviate._" He intoned, and vanished.

Lily shook her head, world returning to focus. Wiping a tear and not quite remembering what she had been thinking a moment ago, she returned to tidying up her home.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 21. Ministry

Character: Severus Snape

Pairing: Severus Snape / Lily Evans Potter


	22. Leave

"Leave me alone, you overgrown prat!" Lily screeched.

"You don't want me to leave." James intoned with smarmy self-assurance.

Lily both hated and loved it when James acted like that. That did not mean she would concede that he had a point. Not yet. Not after a night of putting up with constant prattling about Quidditch all evening. Every time they would go out with his friends, it ended up like this.

"Oh shut up Obi-Wan." Lily tried not to smile, but her lips twitched just a bit.

"That movie again? Seriously? I can't believe you dragged me out to it." James was exasperated. At least she didn't say 'may the force be with you' or something ridiculous like that again.

That managed to throw him off balance. She loved how he hated that movie, and constantly used it to get a rise out of him. And he thought it was her favorite movie for no reason at all. It was sweet on so many levels.

"Hey! Star Wars was awesome. I can't help it if you have no appreciation for proper fiction." Lily used the most condescending tones she could manage. James thought it sounded a lot like pouting.

"Proper? That movie was the single most childish thing I have ever seen!" He hissed.

He actually disliked the cinema on principle, but he lost the plot the first time a spaceship appeared. That is, the first moment. Holding back giggles was becoming increasingly difficult for her. Getting James flustered was so much fun. He needed someone to constantly cut his ego down to size, otherwise he grows unmanageable. She loved doing that time after time.

"Just because your sense of adventure is limited to running around with your friends chasing bad guys doesn't mean you have to insult imagination." Lily continued her needling.

"Imagination?" James sputtered, not knowing how to react at all.

"And you ask me why you should leave." She snickered, and then hugged him.

"You don't want me to." He said weakly.

"I suppose I don't." She said, and then kissed him.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 22. Leave

Character: Lily Evans Potter

Pairing: Lily Evans Potter / James Potter


	23. I don't believe you!

**WARNING: M-rated for a reason.**

I don't get why people always say that instead of "M-rated for fucking", may as well.

* * *

Bellatrix stood, pouring herself a drink. James was transfixed, staring at her gorgeous nude form. Hate at first sight, but that made the sex all the better. Stopping this arrangement was something rational, something he was incapable of doing. Every time he saw her, his blood boiled. He wanted to hurt her, ravage her, brutalize her. And he did, again and again. Auror business, he made his usual excuses to friends and family, every time they met.

"You'll never believe what happened today." She cackled, grating his nerves, and continued. "I tortured Severus Snape."

A smile crept on his lips. He always knew that bastard would go to the wrong side of this war. Vindication, finally. It made him feel somewhat less dirty, still stinking of a woman who definitively was not his wife. The fact that she was an enemy made him feel guiltier.

"He begged the Dark Lord to spare someone. Naturally, such presumption is punished horribly. Give it to the man, he can take the worst punishment in stride." Bellatrix drank down her whiskey in one gulp, returned to the bed and straddled James.

Arousal hit him again, despite being physically drained from the long day and earlier tumble. She raked her fingernails down his chest, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to leave pinkish streaks. Her breath smelled of whiskey, blood and semen, her sitting on his stomach felt intimate, fluids still leaving her. He was entranced with her story, feeling her against him, her smell of depravity committed, the taste of her salty sweat still on his tongue.

"You know, I forgot to thank you. He joined us because of you. And because of his request, he will have to kill in order to prove his loyalty." Bellatrix carried on, voice on the verge of shrillness.

James's mind came to a screeching halt. She couldn't know. Snape wouldn't tell anyone. She would have used that far earlier in their relationship if she knew. Bellatrix's eyes narrowed with predatory intent, seeing shock on his face. Caressing his cheek, she moved her body lower until they were joined once more.

"Did I forget to mention he begged for your wife to be saved? Told everyone how she was a friend when he needed her. Made himself a target for all of us. We took turns torturing him. Always knew he wasn't one of us. Too much like _you_ people, with your _honor_." She whispered, between moans.

He wished he could stop. He wished he could quit her. He wished he could think. And then they couldn't.

Once done, she rose above him, and the words started sinking in.

"I don't believe you!" He shouted desperately.

"What, that he is more loyal to your wife than you are? Maybe I'm just fucking with you again. Whatever lets you sleep at night." She said, leaving him with his relief and shame.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 23. "I don't believe you!"

Character: James Potter

Pairing: James Potter / Bellatrix Lestrange


	24. Party

Dressed in black, as always, she was dancing wildly, drinking copiously, and livening things in the otherwise dull party at Malfoy Manor. Always the wild one, vivacious with unbridled passions, hedonistic and quick to laughter, Bellatrix Lestrange was always the belle of the ball. Amycus Carrow stood sullenly in the shadows. His sister in an animated debate with some foreign dignitary, he was left alone.

Surrounded by all the extravagance of the beautiful ballroom, people he did not know nor wished to know, Amycus stared at the twirling form in the revealing black dress. Beautiful Bella. Everything he could ever want, everything he would never have. Spending his life protecting his sister, he did not resent the fact that he would have no family of his own. He had failed her defense once, and he never would again.

Except when she was there. The life of every party. Brimming with energy, overflowing with glee at everything either good or bad, the world was her oyster, and she just bites down. Everything he was not. He cursed himself for daring to tread such dangerous grounds. Bellatrix was dangerous, no one was foolish enough to forget that. But life was dangerous. This party was dangerous, with this crowd. One wrong word, one bump into the wrong person, and it could be fatal.

In a different time, a different place, he would ignore her husband. He would take her, make her his. He was a warrior, trained in combat, in dancing with death. They could carve the world in order to make a place for themselves. Without his family, without hers. They could be the life of the party, darkness and night, harsh and cruel, daring the border between sanity and whatever else is on the other side.

If only.

Family first. Alecto still needed him. His dreams could wait. There would be other parties. She was still young, and once the war was over, her husband could be removed. She would be the last to resent a little murder.

It will be glorious.**  
**

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 24. Party

Character: Bellatrix Lestrange

Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange / Amycus Carrow


	25. Zoo

"Do it." She whispered.

Wand drawn, the word _Crucio_ on the tip of his tongue, he couldn't. Her big black eyes looking at him with no fear, her thick lips holding no contempt, her face fearless, and he just couldn't. He had to. Alecto was looking at him, puzzled. Snape had eyes on the back of his head. He looked into her eyes and saw the last thing he ever wanted to see. Empathy.

Mustering the hate necessary became an arduous task. Romilda, brash, loud, sneaky, manipulative, beautiful. Curly black hair, framing her round face with an aristocratic chin jutting out. Magnificent. Everything he wanted in his wildest dreams. And he had to do this to her. When she understood that he had no other option. Her words stating as clearly as possible that she knew he was forced. He never felt so alone. He was an animal caged in a zoo, his audience expecting him to be the beast he is.

With a tiny, almost imperceptible nod of her head, she egged him on. He would have to do this. It was this or death. He would hurt her, in a truly unforgivable way. And you cannot forgive it. Not the Cruciatus Curse. No matter how justified, how agreed upon, no one can forgive that pain. She would never look at him like that again. Never with those understanding eyes. Never with empathy. How could she give him this and then take it away?

How dare she? Did she not understand how cruel she was being? She should have spat at him. Threatened him. Anything but this. He wanted to protect her, and forever she would want to be protected from him. Evil, that was what she was. Evil. She found a way to hurt him. She wanted to force him into a beast when he was feeling a man. Well, she wanted him a beast, then let this be a zoo; safe for the observers, but the captives waiting to devour one another. She wanted this? She _deserves_ this.

"_Crucio!_" He hissed out, and watched her convulsing, tears streaming, her screams and sobs filling the room.

When it was over, he turned away and left, with the sliver of a soul she had given him destroyed.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 25. Zoo

Character: Amycus Carrow

Pairing: Amycus Carrow / Romilda Vane


	26. Daydream

**WARNING: A fun time in a bathtub.**

If this offends your delicate sensibilities, then... well... consider yourself warned?

* * *

Hogwarts was well underway with the repair work, and Romilda, like many others, stayed to aid the rebuilding effort. That was when she saw him. Broad shoulders, smooth red hair, and definitely not the silly joker she remembered from his days at school. George Weasley was now a dashing businessman, serious and strong. Like many others, he was recovering from the losses of the battle... which hit him closer to home.

She was in a secluded bath, away from all the others, and she imagined him, instead of in those pants and t-shirt he had when carrying debris away from the building, now without a shirt. Instead of the friends and family surrounding him, hugging him, he was alone, with her. She was holding him, trying to smooth out the lines in his face caused by the frown now etched on his face. Sitting on his lap, she kissed him.

Soaping herself up, Romilda methodically passed over a sensitive area, and carried on with her daydream. At first, George didn't react, lost in his own world, but then slowly put his arms around her and deepened the kiss. It was a kiss of desperate need, his arms pulling her towards him, their skin touching, the feeling of his muscular body against her softness, his hand reaching down...

Romilda moaned, as she imagined him carrying on, as fingers reached deep, and then it was not fingers but himself sending waves of pleasure throughout her body. George took control, and she lay back, their lips wrestling for control, never parting. It was hungry necessity, raw passion now. Her eyes glazed, and then shut, only taste and touch connecting her to the outside world... until it too melted away as her body stiffened in all-encompassing waves.

She continued with her bath. It was a wonderful daydream... but the world beckoned still.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 26. Daydream

Character: Romilda Vane

Pairing: Romilda Vane / George Weasley


	27. Gold

"George, don't make me slap you silly again." Angelina said while taking care of the eggs and bacon.

"Ange, you know I can't help myself." He grinned with that endearing expression of mischief and mayhem.

"Keep your hands to yourself while I'm cooking or this spatula will get to work on things other than food." She lectured, giving him a half-hearted scowl.

"Promises, promises. Oh dear, how long has it been since we did that?" George replied with a chuckle.

Angelina immediately blushed. They've been together for so long, and he still had the ability to get her heated in such a quick exchange. Her precious red-headed husband. It was a rare quiet day, and she was relishing the casual normalcy of it. He could still make her smile, no matter how hard the day. She flipped over the bacon, and put the kettle on... before she felt his hands on her hips, holding her softly, and kissing her on the neck.

"Mmm, still delicious. A part of a complete and balanced breakfast." He whispered into her ear, breath tantalizing, causing goosebumps.

"Hands to yourself, you randy teenager you." She barely managed a firm voice... and to her delight and disappointment, she felt his hands back off.

She felt metal across her neck and chest, and felt him clasp a necklace to her. Of course he remembered. Naturally, pretending today was just another was his form of mild and irritating prank. He reached from behind her, putting his head on her shoulder, and holding a mirror in front of them. From the mirror, she saw the necklace.

Simple, elegant, gold. She smiled at him through the mirror, the wrinkles around her eyes exuding a soft warmth. It has been that long, even his annoying sense of humor (greatly blunted around her) was perfection itself.

"Gold, for the fiftieth anniversary. I love you." George said.

She turned and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Now sit down and wait for breakfast. The spatula will wait for later." She commanded, with an equally mischievous grin.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 27. Gold

Character: George Weasley

Pairing: George Weasley / Angelina Johnson


	28. Jar

It's not that she meant to, but seriously, when most people thought of Oliver Wood, the one word on their lips was _wanker_. So, she got him a jar of broom polish for his birthday. Well, she wasn't downright crude about it. He was Quidditch captain, after all. It could be useful. He does polish his broom a lot. She grinned at the thought.

He smiled at it, but had a very calculating look in his eye. And then everything was back to normal. The broom polish incident forgotten. They talked a lot about strategy and the newer players on the reserve team. She had to admit, he was growing on her. Fun even. He didn't joke about the fact that she constantly fixed her hair, that was too dry. It didn't help that she spent so much time flying around, removing what little moisture was there.

Her birthday was coming up. She invited loads of people, and was swarmed with presents on the day. And then she reached his. A jar of hair oil? That bastard. That evil, evil man. She ran to him, knocking students out of the way in her righteous fury. She grabbed his collar and slammed him into a wall. The idiot smiled at her.

"Listen you bloody wanker, hair oil? Is that a crack at how much I fix my hair for my birthday?" She shouted, not caring that people were staring at them.

"I was being considerate. If I'm a wanker, at least I'm not the only one with a present to help me." He smirked.

Everyone went silent. Angelina Johnson can be very scary when infuriated. When she started laughing, Oliver put an arm around her shoulder.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 28. Jar

Character: Angelina Johnson

Pairing: Angelina Johnson / Oliver Wood


	29. Cute

"Cute! Cute is for kittens and bunnies and pink jumpers. Calling a man cute the same as calling a girl _handsome_." Oliver ranted.

"You see! You get all indignant with your adorable male pride damaged." Tracey giggled. Giggled!

"Adorable? That's even worse. That's for dolls and pajamas." Oliver lowered his head into the palm of his hand.

"Well, you are my adorable little bunny." She smirked at him. Smirked!

"At least you didn't use cuddly." He managed to whisper in defeat.

"Well..." Tracey drawled, her single word wafting like steam to his reddening cheeks.

"Oh gods. I'm a male sports star, that has been called cute, adorable and given an implied cuddly. My only saving grace is that no one other than us heard this." Oliver said.

Wild laughter from outside the room reached him. _Kill me now_, was the only thought he could manage, before casting a silencing charm. On list of humiliations in life, this ranked at his inglorious number three, up from the seven it was at the bunny comment.

"Come on! Don't be such a drama queen." Tracey said, pushing the moment to scathing number two.

"Ugh. You won't ever let me forget this, will you?" Oliver asked, eyes praying for silent reassurance that he was wrong.

"Of course not. Actually, the video recorder over there is on. Has been for a while." She stated matter-of-factly.

And just there and then, that moment went to a gleeful number one. He slumped back onto the bed. When looking up, he saw her smiling into a cup of tea. Smiling!

He would have been royally outraged if she had any clothes on.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 29. Cute

Character: Oliver Wood

Pairing: Oliver Wood / Tracey Davis


	30. Hug

A Scottish bite of cold night was everywhere, the incomplete walls of the castle doing little to shield the ones inside. Families were huddled together, mourning their losses, or out in the field, searching for their dead. Moans of the injured were louder than the whispers silently spoken between survivors. Vicious winds whistled through, right into the bones of the living and the hard stone floor.

Hugging his knees to his body, Theo sat in the corner of the ruined great hall. He had no family left. They were on the wrong side of the war. Death before dishonor, and all that. The Nott family fights to the last breath, as would he, had he already graduated. Theo knew it. Everyone knew it. The Ministry would take his family fortune and use it as reparations. A homeless and disgraced orphan, slightly above average student, with no respectable job opportunities... because his family was on the wrong side.

Warm arms enveloped him, and he finally looked up. Blue eyes and silky black hair. Tracey. Beautiful Tracey. From when he still had something. From when the world made sense. Ash on her cheek, and eyes puffed from tears shed. Warm, soft... caring.

A hug. She gave him a hug.

In his daze, he hugged her back.

Shivering. He was shivering. Tracey's body heat mate him notice how cold it was. How cold and dark and ruined. She hugged him harder, and he tasted salt in his mouth. _How odd_, he thought to himself, when he figured out those were his tears.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 30. Hug

Character: Tracey Davis

Pairing: Tracey Davis / Theodore Nott


	31. Doubt

"I don't doubt many of you think that Astronomy is useless. We are well into the term, and you should carry on..." Aurora Sinistra carried on with her lecture, same as every year, word for word.

Theodore looked at her and the stars seemed to pale next to her dark skin. Her voice caressed his ears as gentle clouds, his mind unfocused on a word she said. Being twelve was confusing, but she was so pretty. He didn't understand why that was so important, but it was. It was the most important thing in the world.

"Pay attention Mister Nott!" Her stern reprimand was like being doused by a bucketful of ice.

Dabbing his quill in ink, deciding to pay attention again. A couple of girls behind him sniggered, for some odd reason. Not knowing why it made him blush, he was still glad that astronomy is taught at night. Paying attention is haaaard. Especially with those beautiful red robes that were a lot more... modern? Was that why they were so distracting?

_Ugh. Pay attention to what she says, not what she looks like_, he commanded himself (but didn't really mean it). Aurora could pull off the pointy hat much better than Dumbledore, who just looked funny. She never looked funny, was too pretty for that. Why was she different than other teachers?

_I can ignore how nice and perfect she is and try harder_, he thought. He was Theodore Nott, heir to the Nott family. He was of stalwart self-control. His dad always said he should be, especially now that he was twelve. Twelve is practically an adult already.

"Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Nott, and please listen to what I say." She said with a slightly annoyed voice.

"Yes, professor." He replied.

He could do it. He would do it. He was sure of it.

... Well, nearly sure. Maybe he had some tiny doubts. So, perhaps, a small doubt.

...

OK, he doubted it very much.

She was very pretty tonight. And that was very important. And it was a very nice dress.

* * *

Made for the November Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 31. Doubt

Character: Theodore Nott

Pairing: Theodore Nott / Aurora Sinistra


	32. Snow

Lucius Malfoy left the castle with the uncaring grace of royalty. The day had been an unmitigated disaster, completely unredeemable, but he strolled untouched by failure or snow. Cane in hand, black against white pavement, his body language was pure imperiousness. Watching from above, Aurora shuddered.

The castle was a prison, not just a school. The children would leave, yet professors remained locked away, restricted in interactions, illusion of freedom lost swiftly. Reeking of indentured servitude, staring at the pathway to freedom trod upon by everyone, Aurora allowed her shoulders to slump.

White skin, platinum hair, steel eyes, Lucius Malfoy walked upon the snow as the king of winter, returning home. Returning home to a wife who looks at him with despair and nostalgia rather than love, a child intermittently hating and worshipping him, and an emptiness grown from the ashes of his soul. The price of being the winter king, cool and cold, weighing him down. His home was a prison, his aristocratic demeanor nothing but slavery to his name.

He looked up, and saw her standing on the tower, snow wafting around her. Dark skin contrasting the white surroundings, eyes directly at him with accusation or perhaps longing... He lowered his gaze for a split second and turned away. He left back to his prison of ice and life. She stared after he turned away, locked in her cage of snow and despair.

Their single moment of eye contact held all the promise and understanding that was needed. Etched into their minds the contrast and a disbelief in the hint of understanding. A prayer that there could be nothing there.

Surely, there was no pleading in those beautiful eyes.

The look held no desperation, only woe.

It was trickery of a tired mind.

Reflections of light on snow.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 1. Snow

Character: Aurora Sinistra

Pairing: Aurora Sinistra / Lucius Malfoy


	33. Lights

"I'm so sorry love... I didn't mean to... Oh gods." Lucius spoke with sorrow and sincerity he hadn't shown in a while.

Moving closer to Narcissa, opening his arms to embrace her, Lucius had tears beginning to creep into his eyes. She tried pushing him away, and then impotently balled her hands into fists and tried beating his chest as he wrapped strong arms around her. Mutters of _don't touch me_, _don't you dare_, but mostly just _don't_ left her between sobs as her body's resistance broke and he held her.

Waking up, Narcissa sat up and winced. Looking around with jittery movements, eyes adjusting to the dark room, Lucius was nowhere to be found. There complete silence was broken by her bare feet walking on the marble floor, a quiet squelching as the moisture trapped under the blanket touched the ground creating a slight sticking of her feet. The room smelled of jasmine and soap, of meticulous care and order drowning out those of the parchments and ink strewn across the desk in the near corner. She didn't run into the bed, nor to the drawers as she passed them. Reaching for the second door, the one in the far corner of the room, her hand reached the doorknob, and the silence was shattered by its turning.

The sleeping gown was deftly removed, and she turned on the lights in the room. Surveying herself in the mirror, she saw red, blue, black and yellow all over her stomach, ribs, and face. Taking out a cream from the top drawer next to the large mirror, her face held no expression. Quick application to her face, practiced smears, instantly measured amounts, and soon her face was visibly back to a crisp and healthy hue. She returned the nearly empty jar to the easily accessible place, and turned the hot water tap on the bathtub all the way.

The luxurious bath, what only those of the greatest means could afford, relaxed her muscles. It was Lucius's gift to her, and she let the grime of the yesterday float off her body. Stony expression on her face, she dipped her hair in the water and let it soak. Her skin was a nice shade of pink by the time the water stopped exuding vapor. She stood up and dried herself meticulously, and went to her wardrobe and pick another long sleeved dress which would nearly touch the ground.

"A Black should be ready for the lights, just as for the darkness." Narcissa whispered, over and over again, as she hid her bruises as well she could.

Lucius would be kind that day.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 2. Lights

Character: Lucius Malfoy

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy / Narcissa Malfoy


	34. Gaunt

"Oh Severus, what have they done to you?" Narcissa moaned.

A corpse was strewn in a puddle of crimson, two thick holes in a shredded neck. Pale like never before, the body's face was matted with hair caked with blood, defiant black eyes now staring vacantly into space. Strength and pride once defining its features were replaced by the frailty of death. For the first time in over two decades, Narcissa towered over him. Her fearless savior. Her strongest ally. Her lover in husband's absentia.

"Of course they would leave you here to die alone. Naturally they would leave you untended." Bitterness creeped into the sarcasm in her voice.

Her hands started unbuttoning the blood-soaked clothing from him. There would be no magic in his final rites, the care would be personal, physical, all the way. Removing a soon to be stiff arm from the first sleeve, and then the second, Narcissa steeled herself, feeling the once strong arms bone-thin. Severus was never a voracious eater, but arms which once embraced were now wiry. Steeling herself, she returned to unbuttoning, this time another layer. Weight lost over the past year became clearly visible, no longer just slim and toned, but apparently starving.

"You deserved better than this. Better than me, a woman you couldn't love, who used you when you were needed. Just like everyone else." She spoke mournfully to the corpse.

By the time the shirt was removed, it was clear that he was all but skeletal. After it was the sight of protruding ribs, concave stomach, jutting hipbones, and scarred skin, white over white, stretched thinly over his frame, dominated her senses. Gaunt as a prisoner years in the deepest dungeon, the corpse continued staring blankly ahead, no blame nor question in its open eyes. Narcissa couldn't help but wonder just how apt that metaphor was.

She stood up, and went to bring a bucket of water and a sponge. Arms aching from the weight, body begging to stop, she walked back to the shack where the body lay. Grim determination set in her features, dismay banished from her thoughts. She had taken care of him once, and had stopped. This would be her final chance, an attempt to do something right. Putting down the supplies in the corner of the shack, she put her elbows underneath his armpits, his head against her chest, and dragged the nude body out of the blood, careful not to let him drag on the ground beyond his ankles on wood. It was far too easy.

"I loved you. Not young love. Nothing naïve, nor particularly pure... but true nonetheless. More than I do my husband, most of the time. Knowing your passionate side, that fierceness and unyielding nature, it was a privilege. That you held a deeper love to someone else mattered not. I was selfish, and so were you. It was wonderful." She carried on while removing the blood methodically with her sponge.

The water in the pail was scarlet, and soon enough she left to replace the water, only this time with clothes in hand. She threw them away, and brought a new set, identical, that had been left in her home long ago. Returning, she saw the place undisturbed and wondered exactly how long would it be before someone dared remember him. Then the task of cleaning the corpse resumed. Soon enough, it was ready to be dressed.

"You were beautiful, in your way. You would probably hate anyone saying that, but it needs to be said. And for once, you are too tired to argue." Words waded in the thick air between them, and somehow his rich baritone remained silent.

It was perhaps a time that everyone was with their loved ones, holding to whatever is dear. A smile crept on her face, as the first tear appeared in her eye.

* * *

Made for the 10,000 Challenge, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: Gaunt

Story length: 650 words

Character: Narcissa Malfoy

Pairing: Narcissa Malfoy / Severus Snape


	35. Twinkle

**WARNING: BDSM**

If you like this, then something is wrong with you, not only me. Consider yourself warned.

* * *

"So wet. So eager. Why do you like it, slut?" Severus Snape snarled.

"Because it hurts, Sir." Ginny whimpered.

There she was, standing bound by her ankles to corners of the headmaster's desk, bent over it, completely exposed. Angry red and blue welts covering her back, her thighs, and everything in between. Severus removed his fingers from her, and unceremoniously shoved them in her mouth. She used both lips and tongue to clean them completely, moving her head so the fingers would thrust in and out. Just as she had been instructed ages ago (only a month? Could it be that long?).

"Good girl." The headmaster said evenly.

Ginny felt no shame at the swell of pride she felt, nor at the portraits of previous headmasters looking down at the scene. That habit had been broken swiftly. Her arousal was reward enough... and then she felt him entering her forcefully, but not at the usual entrance. Pain ripped through her, but it was not too bad. Not as bad as the cane, nor the wand. She screamed. Severus liked it when she screamed, and she wanted to please him so much.

He whispered obscenities and degradations in her ear, but she barely noticed as he filled her senses and mind with his presence. Pain started mixing with pleasure, and as the days went on it was becoming harder and harder to distinguish between them. She was his slut, his bitch, his, his, his.

"I've had you in so many ways, defined and defiled your tastes... Potter will make love to you. Show you tenderness, gentle touches, warmth. You will love it, but some part deep inside will always want me. Beg for me. Beg for something he could never give you." His voice was velvet, soft against her mind as a salve for his brutal treatment and harder words.

"Y... yes Sir." She managed, before her body clenched and his stiffened, before she lost her touch with thought.

Later, Severus Snape smirked at her unconscious nude form as he dressed. He was particularly proud of his handiwork. There was no love, but there was pleasure, that he understood. Seducing the chit was easy, he had done it for safety and sport. She would never tell Potter, she would never tell anyone. He looked up at one portrait with a long beard and half-moon glasses hiding blue eyes.

"Where's your twinkle old man? That one you had when you made me a murderer. The one you had each time your orders told me that every step to becoming a monster was good?" He spat at the old man, forced to watch Ginny's face as she was desecrated over and over.

"No twinkle in your eye? Not even a little one? No words about courage and the greater good?" Severus hissed venomously.

The old man, trapped in his portrait, did not say a word. His time for apologies had long passed. Paint does not twinkle, not anymore.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 50. Twinkle

Story length: 500 words

Character: Severus Snape

Pairing: Severus Snape / Ginny Weasley


	36. Special

Dear diary, I finally met Tom.

Tom used to be my kind of invisible friend. We met him in his diary.

Sorry! I didn't mean to cheat on you. That's why I didn't write you for so long. But his diary writes back. He writes back. Tom is interesting and understanding and handsome and smart and very very special.

That is why his diary is special too. You're special, but different special. You are like a regular friend, and he is... well, boys are usually stupid, like my brothers (especially Fred and George), and he's not. Maybe, if he was more real, he could be my boyfriend. He's five years older than me, so that's nearly as old as teachers, but he doesn't mind.

He told me I'm beautiful. He didn't say pretty like mom and dad and everyone else. Pretty is for little girls. I don't feel like a silly little girl when we write each other. I... don't tell anyone, but I dream of him. Sometimes, I take naps, and I dream he's teaching me things. And then, I feel like my stomach (he says that instead of tummy, because I'm not a little girl to him) is excited.

I was scared a few times, really. Sometimes I fall asleep and wake up elsewhere and I don't feel like I slept. But he tells me not to worry. He tells me that this happens to special women. He called me a woman! Not a girl like everyone else does.

He called me special.

Last night, I wrote his diary, and everything was invisible except for him, and he kissed me. It was amazing.

It was my first kiss.

Thought you should know!

Ginny.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, the 10,000 Challenge, Connect the Characters Challenge.

10,000 Challenge Prompt: Invisible

December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Prompt: 74. Special

Story length: 300 words

Character: Ginny Weasley

Pairing: Ginny Weasley / Tom Marvolo Riddle


	37. Agony

Writhing in agony, arms flailing, beating against the ground, teeth clenched so hard they might break, Bellatrix was happy. The Dark Lord does not show love, does not show kindness, does not show mercy or forgiveness or rest... but he can show displeasure. And this displeasure, this torture, was only because of high expectations. A torture as a sign of respect.

Sweat pouring throughout her dress, urine released, blood in her mouth, there was nothing but pain in her mind. Pain and satisfaction, pain for his displeasure, satisfaction for his regard. Nothing is worse than being ignored, but being held to a standard far higher than anyone else is a cursed wonder. His curse. His wonder. Insomuch as he can show.

Weeping with shame, drowning in guilt, failing to feel anything but incompetent, Bellatrix wanted the torture. The Dark Lord, Lord Voldemort, Master, my Lord. Bellatrix repeated his many names to herself, a mantra of how much she deserves this. She had failed going beyond his requirements, failed to exceed his expectations. He was purging her of weakness.

Some call her insane. But they do not understand, are completely incapable of the depths she has dwelled. Insanity is just a way of others to say "not normative". There could be nothing normative. There could be no other man. There could be no other lord. There could be no other god. There is no other will. There is no other way. There is nothing but his torture, for that is as close to love as she will get. There is only agony, for that is her only pleasure.

There could be nothing sweeter.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 92. Agony

Story length: 272 words

Character: Lord Voldemort

Pairing: Lord Voldemort / Bellatrix Lestrange


	38. Powerful

She killed Sirius. She tortured Hermione. Hate was the first emotion she elicited in him.

He wanted to kill her, with his bare hands. Strangle her, watch the life leave her body. Hate her like no other.

Powerful urges, irrational ones, struck him when he thought of her. Her skipping through and cackling wildly, leaving a path of destruction and taunts... she made his blood boil. Everything about her was evocative.

Forty-Seven years of pure malice and mania, and the years hadn't touched her. Not like Sirius, whose Azkaban time had taken a horrible toll. Not like Remus, whose sickness made him look sixty rather than under forty. Not even like Snape, black-hearted beast that he was. Bellatrix Lestrange had looked frozen at twenty-something, all woman, all sex and power... not touched by worry, guilt, nor shame. She was ice, she was fire, uninhibited, loyal beyond measure, quick to anger, quicker to lash out, and painfully beautiful.

The first night he dreamt of her and not Ginny came as a surprise. As he cleaned the mess in his sleeping bag, he tried lying to himself, saying it was just the stress. Before the dots started connecting, realizing that Ginny was just a socially acceptable imitation, he was worried. He felt guilty. He felt ashamed. To a point, those feelings remained. He hated Bellatrix. How could he not?

It would be time soon. They might meet on the battlefield. Would she cackle manically as she tortured him? Would he still be aroused even then? A powerful surge of pleasure said he might, as he stopped moving his hand up and down. Yes, he just might. If guilt or shame wouldn't stop it, if hate wouldn't...

He zipped his pants, and went to wash his face.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 72. Powerful

Story length: 294 words

Character: Bellatrix Lestrange

Pairing: Bellatrix Lestrange / Harry Potter


	39. Tree

**WARNING: Some language. F-bombs.**

You've been fucking warned.

* * *

Crying again. She always cries. And always, always, it's my fault.

I'm not him. Will never be him. He died because of me. And here I am, fucking his girlfriend.

Brave and noble, yeah right. The Boy Who Lived, again. Competing against a man who died. I could have won, and he'd be alive, and I wouldn't hold her. Wouldn't fuck her. He'd be alive, I'd be alive, and she'd be happy, and I wouldn't.

Today, we sat under a tree by the lake, with small blue fires in bottles all around us, guarding us against the winter chill. For a moment, it was just the two of us, and we kissed. We were happy. It was just that single moment in which I wasn't Harry Potter, political pawn, enemy of dark lords and dark wizards everywhere. She wasn't anything but a girl having a good time with a boy.

As she pushed me back against the trunk, some snow got dislodged from a branch and fell on us. We laughed. And she cried. We weren't alone anymore. Cedric was back there, standing between us, again. She cries, and the tree now reminds her of him. And I hold her. I'm not him. I'm not enough. And I hate Cedric just a little more.

He doesn't deserve blame. He didn't deserve to die. But that's just me. No matter what happens, I always win. And to the victors, go the spoils. So why do I lose to a bloody tree? People are right, I am being selfish. She's mine in every way that counts but one.

And with all the guilt, part of me is happy Cedric died. Even when Cho isn't happy. Even when she cries for him at night, I get to hold her. He doesn't. I won.

Go me.

Yay.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 3. Tree

Story length: 303 words

Character: Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter / Cho Chang


	40. Tinsel

**WARNING: Self-harm, attempted suicide.**

Yes, in this story, someone tries to kill themselves. It is not happy, and it is not going to fill you with holiday cheer. Consider yourselves warned.

* * *

Decorating for the holiday. A tree, a star, baubles... all that was left was tinsel. There would be no presents for her. There would be no cards. This would be for just her and Viktor. No one else would accept an invitation. They scoffed, laughed, taunted, and lectured. She lay down on the hundred yards of tinsel she had yet to use, and sank into the solitude and silence of her empty home.

It was growing colder.

_Slag_.

Jeers when walking through Diagon Alley. Indecent proposals when going shopping. Nasty looks by everyone. Friends leaving her behind. Promotions stopped happening, because her boss expected sexual favors. The Daily Prophet's gossip ruined her life. Rita Skeeter, the so-called journalist, took her to task and found her wanting.

The tinsel beneath her was becoming stained.

_Slut_.

Men stopped seeing her as normal. She was masturbation fodder. No one cared what was true or not, no one cared for what she felt. Her family disowned her because of the scandal. Her friends distanced themselves. Once again, as always, the title of pariah was bestowed upon her. Cedric Diggory, her first love, died, and in death became larger than he had ever been in life. Harry Potter, her second love, dumped her for something a friend of hers did, and lived on to become the greatest celebrity of the times. She was friends with Gwenog Jones, sports superstar, and Gwenog retired after a skiing accident when they went to France together. Skeeter blamed her for trying to ruin yet another lover.

The world was growing distant.

_Starfucker_.

The irony is that she was dating yet another celebrity at the moment. Everything they said seemed so true. A self-fulfilling prophecy. No one who hadn't received the Skeeter treatment believed her. No one cared. Maybe Viktor, a little. Before those pictures showed her how much he didn't. Viktor was just another notch on her belt. That's what everyone said. Another notch.

The blood from her wrist made the pile of tinsel become a muddy mess.

_Suicidal_.

The entire magical world hated her. And she was starting to agree. No one would miss her. Not her parents who were her parents no more, not her friends who had left her to rot, not her lover, who had never loved her. Christmas is about friends, family and love. She had none of those. Nothing at all. Someone entered her flat, but she was too weak to look anywhere. Her eyes were unfocused as she lay there.

Viktor treated her and took her to the hospital, as she lost consciousness.

_Sleep_.

No one was there when she woke up.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 4. Tinsel

Story length: 446 words

Character: Cho Chang

Pairing: Cho Chang / Viktor Krum


	41. Clock

Tick, tock, goes the clock. Seconds pass slowly at night, but years vanish without trace when you don't look. Three twenty-two AM, and going back to sleep is incomprehensible for Hermione Weasley. Getting out of bed, her husband not there, she walks towards the kitchen to put the kettle on. Tea, the British universal panacea, seemed appropriate.

"When I was fifteen, a boy took me to the ball. He was famous, handsome, strong, and liked me for who I am." She said to the empty room.

The ticking of the grandfather clock in the next room was the only answer. An empty house was the only company. Sure, she loved her family to bits. Her work as a barrister was satisfying. It was a good life, overall. A part of her though, knew her correspondence with Viktor was a bit more true than she was comfortable with.

The brightest witch of her age. People used to call her that when she was at school. Only one professor scoffed at it, and kept insulting her dependence on the written word. And she had chosen a job where the written word was law, and there were no tools beyond it. He would have gleefully cut her down to size for it, and she was beginning to agree.

"When I was sixteen, I fell in love." Hermione voiced a part of her train of thought.

Viktor, dear, precious Viktor. He was already a star, and while he never said anything, she knew he loved her even then. The clock's ticking was cut short by the kettle's whistle. She prepared a pot of Newby chamomile tea, a brand Viktor introduced to her when she visited him, nearly seventeen years old herself then, already troubled by war, already beginning to care deeply about Ron. The smell of tea, that would always remind her of those precious few days.

When she was eighteen, after the war had ended, she was plagued by nightmares. Captivity, running, fighting, sneaking, stealing. Death. When she looked upon a dying man, bitten by a snake, she was the only one who had both the tools to deal with his injury and the presence of mind to do something about it. But she hated him, and left him to die alone, trying to grab on to a dream two decades deceased. Her future husband helped her then. Stayed with her when the nightmares hit her again and again.

He came for her then, Viktor. Unscathed by the war. Asked her to go away with him. Told her she could be everything she dreamed of, and that he would make it a reality. Promised to care for her. He had always loved her, and even then, when she was broken he wanted to fix her. When her heart wanted to stop ticking, he wanted to repair the damage.

It had nearly a year between meetings. Eternity. Like the seconds now. But looking back, it was no time at all. But so much has changed, and she blamed him. Her replies to his letters became slower. She focused on her husband, back then, her boyfriend. She had doubts about him back then. She was smart, studious, wanted to change the world, and he didn't look far beyond breakfast. But he gave her strength, was adorable, warm, loving and most of all, kind. Viktor on the other hand was understanding, insightful, elegant, and most of all, not there for her at all times.

"When I was twenty, I got engaged. Viktor told me it was a mistake." Hermione said to the clock, sitting next to it on a warm sofa.

Viktor told her that she could be more. She should study, leave a mark on history, not just on a few lives. A lawyer changes lives, scientists change humanity. He believed she was the brightest witch of her age and should act the part. She remembered a dying man who sacrificed his life and soul, choking on his own blood when she sentenced him to a lonely death as the most hated man in the world as thanks... because she did not have all the facts. The brightest witch of her age couldn't solve the puzzle because she disliked the man.

She was a lawyer, a good one, perhaps even a great one. For someone whose favorite subject at school was maths, it was a ridiculous choice. But it allowed her to stay close to her friends and fiancé. It allowed her to save people. Influence law. Change people's lives. Small victories against injustice, to which her family was a relief from the losing war.

Then Viktor got her the grandfather clock as a wedding present. It was expensive, classy, just loud enough for things never to be completely silent, and a staple in her living room. Immobile, for a permanent home, and breaking the silence which haunted her. Just like him, it was elegant, thoughtful, and out of place in a humble house. She loved it. He never wrote again.

Three forty-one AM. She took a parchment and a quill, and started writing.

"Dear Viktor..."

* * *

Made for the Cinema Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge, Inspiration Strikes.

Prompt: A clock

Movie: There's Something About Mary (_"When I was 16, I fell in love."_, losing touch, prom/Yule date)

Story length: 851 words

Connecting Character: Viktor Krum

Pairing: Viktor Krum / Hermione Granger


	42. Acceptance

**WARNING: Nonconsensual acts of sexual nature.**

While not outright rape, this is rather horrible. Yes, I'm horrible for doing this to Hermione. Consider yourselves warned.

* * *

"Oh god, please... I need... I need..." Hermione was sobbing as she pleaded.

"Say what you need mudblood." Gregory commanded, snickering.

Gregory and Vincent were particularly proud of themselves. They slipped a lust potion into Hermione Granger's drink, and then cornered her in an abandoned corner of the castle. It was kicking in, and at this point, her body was in painful need. Her mind was clear, she knew what she was doing, but there was nothing she could do to help it. She struggled to breathe steadily, as tears streamed down her face.

"I need you to fuck me." She managed, struggling to maintain a steady voice.

"No, you need some nice pureblood cock, slut." Goyle carried on.

"Just fuck me!" Hermione growled.

"Say it." He hissed, moving towards her.

"I need pureblood cock." Said the girl with desperation, weeping with humiliation, frozen in place by the solid ache.

Vincent, leaning against a wall, nodded with approval, a smirk on his face. Greg put a hand in her cleavage, groping her breast, nipple pert with painful arousal. Hermione moaned despite herself.

"That's right. Now, that's not enough, mudblood." He whispered in her ear.

"But you said... I need..." Hermione whimpered, pushing her body against him.

"You're a mudblood whore." Said Goyle, loud enough for an appreciative Crabbe to hear.

"Please... please!" She begged.

"Say it. Otherwise, no." He replied coldly, with practiced indifference to make it hurt.

"I'm... I'm a mudblood whore." The words were agony to say, the acceptance of her humilation complete. The tears hadn't stopped.

"Yes you are." Greg casually noted, picking out a vial from a pocket. "That's a good mudblood. Now drink this."

He poured the antidote down her throat, and removed his other hand from its delicate location. As the antidote started kicking in, Hermione slumped to the ground and wept. Gregory Goyle turned to leave her, Vincent joining at his side.

"For the record, I'd rather jack off you ugly bint. Happy holidays." He turned and said to her.

Leaving her behind, Greg felt lost. He accepted that this would be as close as he would ever get to telling that he liked her.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 82. Acceptance

Story length: 362 words

Connecting Character: Hermione Granger

Pairing: Hermione Granger / Gregory Goyle


	43. Bargain

Another vase shattered behind him with a crash. Married life was not agreeing with Goyle. Draco had distanced himself, and Vincent, his other half, was dead. His father died. He had nothing left but a family name, and a modest manor. He couldn't find respectable work, not after the war, due to his name. No one wanted to hire those that lost. Not even Draco.

There was no other option left. He gave his name to the one family whose name was even lower on the rung, but still had money left. It was a bargain as much as a deal with the devil. Hestia Carrow, a niece of the infamous siblings... beautiful, clever, and oh so very vicious. And currently in the process of throwing furniture at him.

"Just this once I'll get you to do things my way!" Gregory spat.

"Really dear?" Hestia sneered, taking a step forward.

It was an uneasy relationship, and once again, Goyle had pondered just how cruel the bargain was as a chair slammed into him. Hestia was quick with a wand... and constantly showed it. The pain in his ribs as he lay on the ground was another reminder.

Hestia went towards him and picked him up. He smiled weakly at her. She tongued her lower lip as she started discarding her clothing while skipping towards the bedroom. Removing his shirt while walking, Gregory couldn't be happier, bruised side and all, following the path of strewn clothes.

_No nookie unless we duel first, winner decides how that goes._

She drove a hard bargain, and he did love letting her win.

* * *

Made for the December Monthly Het-Tastic Drabble-Athon Competition, Connect the Characters Challenge.

Prompt: 81. Bargain

Story length: 271 words

Connecting Character: Gregory Goyle

Pairing: Gregory Goyle / Hestia Carrow


End file.
